Too long for yearbooks, Part One.

This hour is my last one as a high schooler.

Technically, I still would have to wait some eighteen hours, a graduation ceremony, and a diploma to officially end my career as a high schooler, but what the heck.

Graduations are like birthdays - it ends a time period, yet it starts a new one at the same time.

Since I don't have to be in school tomorrow - maybe just waking up at 9:30 or so, so that I could play tennis with my buds as a student one last time, I'll just write my heart out.

We write a lot of things in yearbooks - some meaningful, some not so much due to variables such as the strength of a friendship, or the amount of space a person gives you to sign (I.E - Do not write on the back of the yearbook, this is my man's page).

I personally love to sign yearbooks: It leaves my mark in there, somewhat a territorial thing within one's heart, or something of the sort. Yet, much like I've said before, there is no point to satisfaction - we want to add something more, and more, and more until it becomes perfect, or overkill.

Not saying that these people that I've known in my high school career will be gone forever, but I want to write something more meaningful where my space or time isn't limited by a vice principal's speech, or a rush because someone else needs to sign it, so here goes:

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1. Hassan - You're the first person I've met at Westchester. Like most friendships, I've had times that I regret meeting you for the things that you've done, or did, or currently doing, but there were times that we got along too well for our own good. Basically, the theory of opposites attract applied to us, and I can't believe your ass might be stuck here forever. Here's hoping that it won't happen.

2. Tobin -There's a debate about you being either the smartest kid in school, or a straight up hard-worker. Some people say that you're hardworking because you get all these straight A-s and stuff. I think it's simply a combination. You can be smart and not hardworking, and it'll still get you a 3.0, or a 3.5, such as in my case, if you get lucky. You can be hardworking, but not smart, but that just means that you took really easy classes, or you're a big fish in a small pond. Once again, you've proven yourself to be a big fish in a pond with big fishes in a small pond. Congratulations in being Valedictorian, you've earned my respect and so many others' as well.

3. Kendra - There is a common phrase that is used around: "Diamond in the rough" - it's not so much for your academics, but it's more of a personality thing. I met you freshman year, and you were the silent type, and didn't really hear from you much during conversation. Like a diamond in the rough, I simply had to find and polish the "dirt" out of you, per se, and let the real beauty of it shine through. I really am amazed at this beauty, both physically (Let the person who has not thought the same thing stone me first) and personally. I don't blame you if you make a ton of friends in Utah because they see such beauty described, but I really hope that you don't forget me.

4. Nathan - You've literally changed in front of me - physically, that is. As for your personality, it stayed the same. For some reason, much like other people who have tried and avoid me, there is this certain charm or swagger to you that just attracts people - perhaps, it's the witty side of you as I've heard and received your comments. If anything, I'd compare you to an ice cream cone - no matter what the dip on the outside is, it's still Vanilla. Stay chill and tasty, but remember, i'm not having a culinary boner over you.

5. Nik - I still hate you for making fun of Rascal Flatts in Kohon's class - I remember asking you if you knew the progression for this song, and you went "what the fuck" is this. I also remember adding you in MySpace as Captain Cocker - I really don't know what they mystery behind that is, and I don't want to know. If anything however, you somewhat deserve that name based on our mutual instances with your dick, nohomo (Nelsen's Class and BOB1) - That picture's up on the internet, and next time that they ask me about it, I'm calling you on your phone to give that explanation.

6. Wendy - "Women are like eggs, dude". I at least know five ways to cook an egg, and if I missed any, then that's why I'm going to New York for. There's a reason to this analogy. Your personality is highly varied compared to the others I know where some are plain douchebags, some are plain boring, some are plain enthusiastic. Because of this varied personality, I can never figure you out - pisses me off sometimes, to be honest. Here's a better analogy that I could come up with though: If you cook eggs right though, it's heaven and it's worth it. I know, but I don't hope that this is a little too late, but you are one egg that I really want to try and figure out.

7. Sarah - I personally thought that meeting people via social networking was B.S - (see E-Harmony, and the sort). You as a woman had more balls than I ever had (Yes, I'll sincerely admit, for now), inviting me to your New Year's party, trusting that I'm not some lurk (ahem, Hassan). Ever since that day, I think our friendship has grown slowly (really slowly, in my opinion) because of our few encounters in YnG, and whereever Oliver hangs out these days. But really, I wouldn't fix something that's not broken because obviously (either that, or I'm very oblivious to this fact) that this friendship is still growing with drips of water and rays of sunlight at a time. By the way, I still owe you thirteen bucks for that camping trip, and I need to find a hot plates - who doesn't like crepes?

8. Mark - Everytime I look for a job these days, there's this voice at the back of my head saying "You know why you can't get a job?" - You asshole. I'm glad to discover that we're both in the same neighborhood. To be honest, I'm happy to know a person who's blunt as you, but still an asshole (even though it's ground beef, it's still beef - if you don't get that analogy, call me). Because of this personality of yours, I've developed in my opinion the better, if not the best conversations with you because they actually make me think. By the way, you need to learn how to bike if you're gonna survive college. Walking can be over-rated at times, you know?

Dream Night

Have I ever told you about my dream night?

If so, here it is:

Going to Ralphs with at least fifty dollars, spending thirty on wood, some chips and soda, and heading down to a beach, sitting beside a warm fire while reading a good book, or listening to music.

I might do it on grad nite - I love my friends and all, but I believe it's time I separated myself from that mess and gave myself a nice graduation gift.  After all, Silence is the gift of the gods, and we all deserve it once in a while.  

That, and why the hell do I want to pay seventy for Chester's grad nite, while Gundo pays 26?

Separation Anxiety

I never thought I would have this feeling again after I left Sacramento for the last time.

What feeling is it?  See title above.

I, along with a ton of 12th grade delegates have expressed in our own separate ways as to how we will miss Sacramento, or Youth and Government program itself as a whole.

I remember saying to myself that we can always come back to the program (like a good uncrustable - shout out to Brandon Kim) as interns or advisors, much like my advisors have after their time as delegates for at least seven years or so (not sure on the time-frame part, but it's welcome for any correction).  

After writing that blog, I felt separation anxiety for a week, talking to my newfound YnG friends (which reminds me, I feel the need to talk to them these days - I don't want to make these friendships a one week stand, or anything of the sort) and past memories, whatever it may be from Spring Conference to NIC first round commissions, etc.

It was weird to have that feeling as if the world were ending in front of me, with lost hope - not going to lie...

Then I realized, I had college to look forward to.

Denver, Colorado - Seven months away, I can picture the goodbyes in my head, along with the picture of my parents gone, my friends with their own destiny at their own hands as they go on to different colleges - away from their families, meeting new friends, etc.

Then, I competed for C-CAP, a cooking competition, and suddenly, EVERYTHING CHANGED.

I got 40 grand (for those who don't know, it's forty thousand dollars) to go to the Culinary Institute of America, also known as the Harvard of cooking.

One condition... Maybe two, just let me list them anyway.

One is that I had to stay one more year and take my classes at a community college, second, I had to work at a professional kitchen for at least six months (my scholarship DOES have a due date), and keep a 3.0.

Basically, this scholarship that I got made my heart burst and made me almost cry to tears (of happiness of course), since I didn't know I was going to do THAT well for the level that I performed.

Not saying that I want it, but as of this point, this scholarship feels like the girlfriend that I knocked up - I'm stuck with it forever, and if I ditched it, I'm basically fucked.

After thinking that way, a stream of thoughts ran through my head.

I have to go to church for one more year with my mom (and I dislike it)

My senior friends are all gone to college of their choices, and I'm here getting to mine, starting from scratch, at a community college (once again, one of my greatest fears, community college), as it makes me feel unsuccessful compared to those who are going there in a matter of months (at least three, I suppose) 

So basically, part of it is jealousy.

And my last worry is this - If my friends are all gone to college, and my friends at Westchester, who some, to be completely honest, I'm uncertain about because I haven't bonded with them much are genuine friends of mine, since I can't relate to them in terms of whatever the fad is, or what to talk to them about, etc. (Much is the same with my senior friends, but I've been around them for four years, and it's just going to feel weird)

When I told the panel that I was willing to make the sacrifice(a year of community college, and kitchen experience) to get to the best (CIA), I didn't know that problems like this would start flowing at the moment that I thought of it.

The  anxiety after leaving YnG does not affect my future much, as I know that I always have a connection to these people and can talk to them later, but this anxiety that I have now, the scholarship, will affect me in the future that if I dent my reputation one bit, that scholarship will be gone faster than President Obama ever said hope, and I'm stuck here for a long period of time... and I don't want that.

I remember writing in my speech for graduation saying that "let the thought of you joining the real world scare you momentarily, but never let it scare you forever".

As of now, I can't live by my own words.  Though I know that this won't last forever, It still lingers now, and I just need something to get over it, but I'm not willing to do it through cigarrettes or alcohol, because it's just nasty....

Bitter Binge

If this won't make me feel any better, I don't know what will.

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I definitely understand how mothers tend to say "That could have been you" - it's an achievement, pride thing, I guess.  But this specific one doesn't really apply to any of that.

I remember going home on a Sunday from church, with my mom asking me if I had to go somewhere today, and I said yes.  I said, I was going to my friend's event.  And she(my mom) asks if I'm with her (in a relationship), I simply said no.  And she said, "Oh, I thought she was going to be with you, why didn't you go for it? Did you get beat?"

My first thought:  WHAT THE FUCK.

I wanted to say it, right there and then, but I didn't want to do it on her favorite day, and on a four day weekend.  That would suck major balls, and I just don't want to pull an Aubrey.

Ever since then, it somewhat has been awkward for me seeing this person.  Awkward, but I can be mature about it, have a good conversation, but every now and then, I start thinking to myself:   I did get beat to it.

In fact, why do I even care?

Here's my second thought:  I remember Dakota was telling stories in the bus, and he's said this one where you "do" some girl one night, and when you're in the beach doing your thing, and she runs off, waves to you, you ask yourself "why did you do that?"

Same situation applies to me currently, but I didn't do someone in the process (thankfully), but it makes me remember one night, where I'm forced to be satisfied with it, because of memories captured in paper, or posted in facebook, and whatnot.

Not saying that I was satisfied with it, but, it somewhat didn't feel like the way I wanted it.  I'm not a perfectionist, but there is a side of me where I want to feel good as to what I'm doing, whether if it is halfassed or not.

Even if I did get the date that I wanted, and some people know who it is, and maybe she knows herself as to who she is - there is no point to satisfaction.  I might have gotten the right date, but I didn't do enough, as in pick a crappy corsage, spent too much, bored her to tears - I don't really know the common problems for dating, or "dating", and the whatnot.

Here's my third thought:  Westchester High screwed me over, and I want my fucking refund.

Instead of spending only two hundred dollars on a yearbook and cap and gown, these people, yes, these people advertised senior packages, but not the cap and gown package only.

Either I didn't read the paper right, or they baited and switched me.  I have no freaking idea.

That, or I forgot the other option: They put it in really small print.

Once again, what the flying fuck.

I saw the senior packages, and one is a memory book that looks gay as fuck with some madlibs shit on it.  Really, dude?  That, and it had tickets to senior breakfast and picnic, which as to this day, I'm still raging aobut because I didn't get my package, and didn't go to the breakfast.

And to think, I was so hungry this morning, that I only ate a freaking fast-one bar, or whatever the heck it is with thirtyfive percent amount of fiber for the day bar... still delicious anyway.

I know that I've been enjoying the simple pleasures of life far too much, but living under this concept has screwed me over so many times that I could have banked in on chances, so many chances, that I'm just letting it all out at this point.  

When I said that there is no point to satisfaction, there is no point to satisfaction - it's only temporary, and another problem comes up again to bother and destroy you emotionally to pieces.

Really, can my eighteen days of high school just be up, have my break, and take this dick off my ass temporarily?

Jump Start

Wow, haven't posted in a while...

I remember writing my graduation speech a couple weeks back....

But here's a really quick backtrack:

My congratulations go first to Tobin and Kendra for getting Valedictorian and Salutatorian, respectively.  As a prize for such a prestige, they both get speeches.  To be really honest, I'm somewhat jealous that they get to deliver a speech.

But wait.  Opportunity knocks.  Speech Contest, let's go.

And back to the real post.

I remember writing so many drafts in Kamm's class, how I've tried to backtrack from six or seven years back.  (According to Wolfram Alpha, I have been here six years and fifty two days)

Then, I realized that it didn't work, and instead, I focused on the present, focusing a point in my weekend in Colorado.  (Can't say much, because if this actually gets in, then I get to give a speech! HOOPS!)

I've realized as I was writing this speech was that time flies by so fast that it cannot fit in a two minute speech.  These moments, as much as we want to brag about them, will never get a chance to shine on the big stage, in front of many people, having a laughter or a quick tear.

Moments that lived upon us in eighteen years of our living lives in our hearts.  We program ourselves to keep what we want to keep, what we want to delete, we are programmed permanently to remember some things that turned our lives upside down, three sixty - whichever your favorite expression may be.

That, and the secret to a speech is the secret to good food, or anything good in general:  It comes from the heart.

Musical Chairs, and Time.

There is one concept in life that doesn't sit right with me:  Moving On.

It truly is a pain to watch someone enjoy something while I'm at home not doing that something that someone else is doing.  The worst part is that this "something" is a thing that I, or some of the people I knew wanted to do.

It is a mixture of emotions, really.  Happy that someone else got to experience what I once experienced, Sad that I only got to see it in pictures, Angry as to how it was all SIP, and how I couldn't see the people that I knew inside or out of Westchester once again.

The most ironic thing about this though, is that I wanted for this to happen.  I said before (and I'm pretty sure that every person graduating has) is that we just want high school to be over.  It is finally getting over, as we are going through the last stages of April, then in a matter of days, it's the AP test.  After that's done, what's next?

The irony in our wishes or things that we say is far too general that is merely a basic idea, something that we can all agree upon.  Once that this "wish" actually goes by, there is a certain part that you don't want to leave:  A high school relationship, your starting spot on a sports team, or that one club you joined a year later because you were too fucking lazy, or intimidated to ask.

(That above obviously involves me, minus the relationship - like a legit one, not friendships, not that I don't want them, it's just time for something new.)

As much as I hate to say it, the concept of moving on is much like an ugly chick walking by that when given a makeover, it blossoms into something beautiful, something that you'd want to have sex with or simply "fap" to.  (Perhaps, that's just me, but other guys can agree to such a statement).  I am not alone in this experience, but this is pretty much the same feeling that I had after leaving my hometown.  It probably doesn't sit right with me right now, but as the days go by, some things will come to form, and some of these things might surprise ourselves, and one day, this surprise might bring you back once again to that someone or something that you once loved.

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The Birthday Analogy

There is that one feeling prior to my birthday that I really get excited about:  The idea that I'm one year closer to be able to drink, to vote, to drive by myself, etc, or simply one year closer to death, or one year closer to independency, to success, to party.

Then, the event comes.  You get that magic number, you've had your moments, and then the next day, it feels like nothing happened, as if it was a normal day.

That is pretty much what I'm feeling at this point.  I don't even know how the hype for a certain event came to form, or why it was even brought up.  I'm not going to lie and say that I didn't want to go through with it, but I guess due to some tradition that has lasted for centuries, I guess I had to.

This is how bad it is to have so much thought swimming around in my head.  I don't know what to say, or I don't know whether to be straightforward or vague.  

Probably, it's because of this birthday analogy of getting gifts.  I guess that perfectly suits my point quite well.

If I wanted a car, and knowing me, being a teenager and my mom being a cheap, insurance agent, I'm pretty confident that I'm going to get the shitty old car with carpets that smell like cat piss, and an exterior that has possibly been scratched by cats. 

Then, on my birthday, I get a car that is brand new.  Leather interior, leather everything, GPS, bling on the rims, a sick sound system.... It's like, "What the hell did I fucking do to get this?", Where's the one that I expected to get?  

I still can't believe that life gave me the car that I didn't expect to get.  I mean I did want it before, but I've gone to accept the fact that I wasn't getting the shiny car.  Hell, I've accepted it that I told myself that I wasn't going to buy a car, and instead get a moped - something totally different from a car.

But now, I don't even know.  Do I return the car, or do I run away with it and have a joyride?

A New Leaf.

I realized something:  I cannot kill this blog.

I've made attempts to make a fresh start by at least attempting to make a new blog with no posts in it.  I've used titles such as "Like Dude, Seriously", "Dan-dified", or "For Everyone's Eyes Only".

Thinking of titles for the new blog got really stressful that I didn't even have the time to write the blog that I was planning to write itself.  I was also thinking about transferring all my better stuff into the new blog site.

I thought about it a couple minutes back and said:

"Man, all I need to do is to delete a couple of blogs, and change the title of the blog!"

So I did.

Even though this blog is for everyone's eyes only, It seems rather unoriginal as I took it from "For Stevie Wonder's Eyes Only", a song from Bring Me The Horizon.  That, and if I publish a blog for everyone in the world to read, then it truly is a given or else, I would go through the trouble of limiting it to a certain amount of readers, which probably won't even read it.

That, and I thought about the deleting thing, and I think that I'm not going to delete any of my past blogs, except for a draft here and there, as well as that notification of me making a new blog, since it's obviously bogus.  That, and every artist has had crappy work (except they're obviously in the ruins or stashed somewhere, who knows)

With college basketball season over, and the baseball season just starting, I think it's appropriate to say that the title for this blog is....

(look above. :])